Mistaken
by OBluver
Summary: "She wasn't even the one I wanted, the one my soul wanted, but she saved my life, so I got her anyways." A different kind of Veela tale.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello! It's been a very long time since I've published a story on here, but I'm very excited to be back, and hope you enjoy what I've come up with. It's my newest brain child, so all I ask you to do it read, enjoy, and give whatever feedback you have! Thank You! And Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays!

Disclaimer: I own nothing Harry Potter related. Life sucks, I know.

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><p>Strangely, upon waking up from whatever induced state I had been under, Granger's face was the first thing I see. Pert nose, freckled skin, and that mass of brown hair, yes it was Granger, I was satisfied of that point. And yet, all at the same time, I was not satisfied at all. The more I stirred further from my sleep, I began to feel a burning under my skin, growing stronger every minute. It was an itch, a call to move, an intrinsic need, and yet I found myself not being able to move a muscle. I tried to pry my hands up to escape, to satisfy the burning, but found myself bared by thick metal straps. Granger must have heard the noise, and for the first time since I had been conscious, turned her eyes toward me.<p>

No, Granger wasn't different, but the whole world around her was. Every image sharper than it had been yesterday, every sound echoing dangerously in my ears. There was a foul smell coming from somewhere at a small distance, and, as I saw a set of healers rush past the door, I realize that it was the blood of the patient in the room next to me. Everything was instant and painful, and none of it served to alleviate the burning, which I so desperately wanted to cease. Granger hurried over to my bed, flipping through a chart all the while, making a terribly large amount of noise.

"Mr. Malfoy." She spoke no louder than a whisper, but the sound cut through my ears like a scream. She must have sensed her own power, for when she spoke again, it was in an even softer tone. "Mr. Malfoy I need you to stay calm for me, alright? Everything is going to be fine."

But it wasn't fine, because, even as she spoke the words, she reached out a hand to gently touch mine. The moment our hands met, the fire increased, burning more intently than it had before. I pulled away harshly, not wanted her to touch me for another second. It was wrong. She was wrong. She should not be the one to touch me, from this moment forward only one woman would be allowed to touch me in that way… but what? My thoughts were not even making sense to myself, and as I struggled to make sense of my body's instinctual reaction, I found myself drifting back into the darkness.

It was Granger. She was inserting something in my arm, a needle I think, but I barely felt it. And as the darkness descended the burning started to be released. I couldn't help but thank Granger in my mind. She may not be it, but for the moment, she's a start.

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><p>It was mixture of pity and fear that I gave him a second dose of morphine. A patient had never reacted so violently in my presence before. It was as if the moment our skin made contact, I had scolded him with boiling water, and then came the convulsions. It was all to be expected, of course. He was slowly having to adjust to his condition, and it would take some time before he became assimilated with all of his new abilities. And, his new priorities in life, of course. As I watch him slowly drift off into his drug induced coma, I chuckled despite myself. While his reaction had been alarming, it was the best thing that could happen to either of them. It meant she was not his mate.<p>

This whole ordeal had started yesterday, when she had been summoned to her Chief of Healing's office, without any regard to what it was about.

"Maybe you're finally being promoted!" Ginny proclaimed, trying to keep her spirits up. Both women knew that in a place like this, you had to have high spirits, otherwise you won't make it through the day.

They year after the final battle both Ginny and Hermione returned to Hogwarts to finish out their last year of schooling, while the boys decided to begin their Auror training. While Harry and Ginny's relationship was used to the strain of distance, Hermione and Ron's was not, and after Christmas they decided to end it. Ron struggled, not coming to the Burrow on weekends that she and Ginny decided to visit, and even missing graduation because he felt it would be too hard to see her. It was the look on Ginny's face when she realized her closest brother wasn't at her own graduation ceremony that set Hermione's mind. For both Ginny's and Harry's sake, she decided that she needed to separate herself from the Weasleys, something that was made easier by her new position as a Healing Intern at St. Mungos.

It wasn't until four years later, after Hermione was made a full fledged Healer, that Ginny decided to join the program as an intern. After graduation, she had held a variety of careers that had not made her happy. She had tried to work for the ministry, the Daily Prophet, and even be a stay at home wife for a short disastrous period, before she finally decided that healing was her true passion. It had thrilled Hermione, fore, after four years of being distanced, she was finally able to be reunited with one of her dearest friends. They were closer than ever, and medically, Hermione trusted no intern more than Ginny.

That's why, when the chief presented Hermione with the high profile case of Draco Malfoy, she was able to, without a doubt, chose Ginny to assist her. Not only would she have the tact to keep quiet, but it would also be a great chance for her to learn and gain experience with the healing of magical creatures. Veela transformations were rare, and even more so it males. Having experience working on this case would no doubt give her an advantage with the board, who were meeting within the week to review the applications for residency. This could be that final thing that really pushes her in front of the competition.

"How is he doing?" Ginny's voice floated into the room, as she brought the numbing cream that I had requested. Treating Veela's was particularly difficult because their magical cores rejected most forms of magical treatment, therefore we have had to be creative in our treatments. Morphine, in doses lethal for a human, has been used to dull his pain, as well has put him to sleep. The numbing cream itself was for the itchiness that he might be experiencing. While there is little documented about a Veela's transformation, what information that is available usually concerns their yearning for a mate. For the first moment of consciousness, it's present, pulling you to where they are, and punishing you with a painful itch it you do not proceed. Because Malfoy didn't know of his condition previously this itch might be confusing, and I wanted to help transition it as much as possible. That's where the numbing cream came in.

"Can you believe we're treating Malfoy? I mean Draco Malfoy of all people! Did you even think you'd see him again? I mean, yes, I've seen him in passing. Unfortunately, he and Harry seem to share the same affinity for restaurants, but we never actually speak. We hardly even acknowledge each other. And now here he is, a Veela! Pretty unbelievable." Ginny ranted, while prepping the cream that was about to be put on Malfoy's skin.

"Well, it's not that unbelievable if you think about it." I replied, only to be met with an incredulous look. "What? It isn't. All the warning signs were there, from his hair, to his lineage. The Malfoys lineage wouldn't have survived if they were really one hundred percent pureblood, there would be to much inbreeding. Plus, he's always leaned towards a more… aggressive sexual nature that is associated with the Veela race." I felt my face flushing.

"And Healer Granger, how would you know about that, what did you call it, aggressive nature? I never thought of you and Malfoy, but I guess it's not that unbelievable if you think about it." She was smirking, which only proved to deepen my blush.

"Of course not! You know Malfoy and I have never felt anything but disdain for one another. But it's not like he didn't have a reputation at school. I lived with Lavender and Pavarti, remember. I heard stories."

"Well, whatever the case, I still think it's completely insane. I do wonder who his mate is, poor babe."

It was at that exact moment that Malfoy began to thrash in his bed, eyes still closed, but obviously resisting the morphine.

"Ginny, quick, the numbing cream, before he wakes up!" I hollered, checking his heart rate in the moniter. It was soaring. We had done nothing to cause this, the morphine should be working. A moment of panic flashed through my mind, wondering if we had done something wrong, missed a step and risked his life. But we couldn't have, could we?

"Hermione, what's going on?" She shouted back, standing back from Malfoy, seemingly scared to touch him.

"I don't know, but start applying that cream now, Healer Potter! That's an order." That snapped her back into place. She reacted immediately, grabbing the cream and rubbing it slowly onto his skin. And then it all stopped. Malfoy's eyes flew open, and more quickly than I could see his hand was around his wrist.

"You." When he spoke the words, I knew immediately what had happened, and dread filled my stomach. Malfoy had just discovered his mate, and she was the wife of Harry Potter.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N- Hey guys! I've loved the response I've gotten so far! It's so encouraging, I can't thank you guys enough! And keep it coming, I love to hear anything you have to say, good or bad. So without further ado, here is the second chapter! Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

It had started out as a low muffle, a sound cutting through the darkness that I had been induced into. It was soft at first, but then it grew louder and more prominent, pushing everything else in my being out of focus. It was the only thing I could hear, or feel. It was the only thing I ever wanted to feel. The darkness pushed thick around me, but I fought it off, craving the sound, needing the sound. After a moment, I could make it out as a voice. There were two voices actually, but only one of importance. As my mind became clearer, I realize that one of the voices belongs to the woman who had been here earlier. I knew her name, but it seemed of little importance at the moment, because the other voice, was heaven, and it was slowly pulling me forward.

"Well, whatever the case, I still think it's completely insane. I do wonder who his mate is, poor babe."

It was like a light switch. She spoke the word, and I knew it to be true. Mate. She was my mate. There couldn't be a truer thing in the world. It was no longer hard to fight the darkness. It all flowed away suddenly, and I was thrashing, fighting to get to it, to her, the one thing that would make my being complete. Those damn chains were holding me back, but I knew I could break them, crush them in the palm of my hand if I had to. I needed her.

And then it was like a cool oasis washed over me. It was a light touch, insignificant coming from anyone else, but from her, it was everything. My head was clear of any drug they had put in my system, because they were no longer needed. This was the only drug I needed, the only high I would ever need for the rest of my life. My hand moved, seeking out more skin, anything to attach myself to her. And for the first time I was able to open my eyes and see her form.

Red, it was all I could see, all I could take it. Her whole form was glowing in an aura of red passion and delight. She had pale skin, and a face sprinkled with freckles that could have been stars with the way they sparkled in my eyes. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn't place it in this moment in time. It didn't matter anyways. Anything in her past was over with. She was his now, his to protect, his to love, his to procreate with. Oh, he could almost visualize it now. Her form, big with belly, glowing with that same red passion, but also glowing with something else, something only he could provide, happiness, and contentment. She would feel all of those things and more.

The other woman was speaking words, but he was having a hard time hearing them through the sound of his mate's racing heartbeat. But a few words did manage to slip through. "Calm… Ginny… Not himself… nothing drastic." Only one of these words made sense to him. Ginny, that must be her name. That spark of recognition flared up again, as this time I was able to connect it to a source. Ginny, a girl he had gone to school with, a girl he had taunted, a Weasley. His heart immediately ached for the mistakes he had made in his past. No matter, though. They meant nothing now. All that mattered was his future, their future. Then as quickly as my euphoria came, it diminished. All it took was a few words.

"No." My angel spoke, in a hoarse voice, as though fighting through tears. "No, I won't do it. I can't do it, Hermione. I will not be his mate!"

The most excruciating pain I ever felt spread throughout my entire body, starting as my toes and quickly engulfing my heart. No, I had been rejected. That life, that happiness, was all gone in an instant, and now there was no need to live. The darkness crept again, but this time I knew it was not because of drugs, but because I was dying.

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><p>"Ginny what have you done?" His hand had dropped from her wrist and his whole body went limp before my eyes. Ginny backed away, putting as much space between her and Malfoy, until her back was pressed up against the very back of the door. Tears were streaming down her face, and her whole body physically shook. In normal circumstances, I would have comforted her, but with a dying patient in front of me, I couldn't trifle with silly matters such as that.<p>

"What was I supposed to do, Hermione? I can't live that life! I can't be stuck to Malfoy! What about Harry? What about our lives together?" She was screaming too at this point, both of us frantically trying to make our points known.

"But you didn't have to do it like that, right in the moment of his realization! Didn't you read any of the information on Veela's during your healer training? There are things that could have been done, ways you could've reversed it! Now you've gone and killed him of a broken heart!"

"I didn't…" Malfoy's machines were going crazy, and the rest of Ginny's words were drown out. I would deal with her later, but for now my first priority would have to be the man who was quickly dying in front of me.

"Just leave!" I shouted at her. "Go! You're officially off this case! You speak to no one, you do nothing, until I come find you, understand! Go!" And with that she fled the room. My harsh words couldn't be contemplated at the moment, even though I felt a twinge of guilt at them already. Ginny was still an intern, and is bound to make mistakes. But I had specifically requested her on this case, entrusted her among all others, and she risked the life of my patient, by letting personal matters interfere. While the events had been shocking, within the walls of this hospital you had to be a Healer first, and a person second, and that meant being able to put your emotions aside in the face of the most shocking circumstances. Ginny had forgotten of the primary elements of medicine, and now Malfoy was suffering for that.

I moved quickly, tilting Malfoy's head back, checking his breath sounds. They were ragged at best. His hear beat was rising at a dangerous rate, and wouldn't be able to hold it's course without giving out. I had to think. None of my forms of medical magic would work, and at this point I doubted any of my muggle ones would either. Veela magic is powerful, especially concerning their mates. And if a rejected Veela was determined to die, there was not much in the world an ordinary person could do to help them. But, I'm not an ordinary person. I'm Hermione Granger. I helped defeat the dark lord. I am the youngest full certified healer in St. Mungos history. And I was going to save the life of Draco Malfoy.

If medical magic and muggle remedies could not cure him, the only options left were dark magic, or powerful old magic that is rarely used, for good reason. Back when magic was young, wizards had yet to grasp the flexibility of magic. Because it was so new, they did not trifle with small errands, like cleaning or cooking spells, but rather created incantations concerning life and death. They could stop a death, but only if extreme measures were taken. In today's society, such measures are unnecessary. However, in this situation I could think of nothing else.

I drew a deep breath in as the perfect spell came to me. I had come across it before Harry and Ginny's wedding, when researching the customs of wizarding weddings. It was going to be my first time seeing Ron in over two years, and I had wanted to be prepared as not to look foolish by forgetting something completely traditional. For wizards, it would be completely useless for preventing death, but for a Veela, it just might work. But there were heavy consequences to consider, on both her and Malfoy's behalf. But without a life, how could Malfoy even voice an opinion? And would I forever be haunted by the fact that I could have saved his life and consciously decided not to?

Malfoy took a labored breath, and in the moment I decided. I was a healer. It would be unethical for me to stand here and watch a patient die due to my reservations about a spell. Hadn't I just yelled at Ginny for doing just that? I took Malfoy's hand and began chanting, lowly at first, but as the magic coursed through me, my words began to get louder, more powerful, as if they weren't even my words any longer. I felt Malfoy's magic to, resisting, but finally conforming to the ancient words, bending to there will. And for a moment I lost myself in it all, before suddenly being snapped back into reality.

Everything was different. I hadn't been expecting that, such a drastic change so quickly. But it was. The ground I walked on felt different. The air I breathed felt different. It was as if my sensations had been let loose for the first time. And after a moment, I looked down at Malfoy, who had begun to stabilize, and our hands that were still joined together. And I couldn't help but wonder, what the hell did I just do?


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Yay for being done with finals! What a huge relief it is to finally be home, and being able to think in english instead of spanish for a change. And with being home, will hopefully come a lot more chapters. And just as a warning, this chapter is long... like almost twice as long as the other chapters. I know some people prefer that, but I've always had mixed feelings. Cause I never want a chapter to be so long it becomes boring, but I don't want it to be to short and unsatisfying. But, when writing this chapter there was no logical cut off point in the middle, that's why it's so long. Also, this is all in Hermione's POV. I promise there will be more Draco next chapter, but again, I just couldn't logically fit him in. So, I hope you like it! Please review, and let me know what you think!

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

The waiting was the worst part. Upon the completion of the spell, Malfoy stabilized, but had yet to wake up, something I both dreaded and was thankful for. That gave me more time to come up with a more clinical explanation for what I had just done. Because, such an explanation would not only be needed for Malfoy, but also for the chief of healing. God, why had I not thought of him before I went rouge and performed ancient magic? Why had I not been more like Ginny and thought about what ramifications this might have on my own life? Because sitting here, with all these new sensations, I wish I had been more like Ginny. I wish I had been more selfish. More than anything, I felt reckless, like Harry running off to the Ministry of Magic at the first sign of trouble. At the first sign of trouble, I went to an extreme, without much consideration of other options.

But, all of these thoughts might be a side effect of the spell. When I read it for the first time, I had been much more interested in the theory rather than the logistics, and now I can't help wondering if I had just done something terrible and trapped both Malfoy and I in a prison which we could never escape. I couldn't help but start trembling at the possibilities.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself. First, thing is first, word must be sent to the chief of healing. Legally, that was the best way to cover ourselves, trying to keep it a secret could result in scandal. Next, is to get a nurse to notify Ginny that she needed to leave for the day. This was just for extra precautionary standards. While I was fairly certain that the spell would take care of this problem, there was so much I had yet to know, and I wanted to veer on the safe side. While professionally I may be frustrated with her, Ginny is still my friend, and should be protected as much as possible. And then there was the Malfoy, himself serving as a problem. While the fact that he had not woken up yet was calming emotionally, it was not the best thing medically. If the spell, combined with his fragile state, had been to powerful, it might have overstressed his body, sending him into a coma.

That proved not to be a problem as, after a couple of minutes, he began to stir. I felt awkward at first, not knowing which role to play in this situation. Should I be the healer or go for the old acquaintance route. This was Malfoy after all, and we didn't have the best history together, so the latter might prove to be volatile. However, it had to be considered that he had almost no idea what was happening. As far as I know, he had no knowledge that his Veela blood was active, much less that there were any Veela in his family. He had gone through a tremendous amount of change in the past twenty four hours without really knowing or having a choice in the matter. He was likely to be angry, if not scared. And a familiar face, even if it is a not so favorable one, is better than nothing.

As he began to shift in bed, his eyes opened slowly, he glanced at me confusedly,

"Malfoy, it's Hermione Granger. You're in the hospital. Do you remember me?" It felt like a stupid question to ask, but I was unsure of what else to say, or what to tell him. Hey, you're a Veela, whose mate left him, and oh, I bonded our souls together in order to save your life. I suspected that approach would not go over well.

"Granger." He croaked, his voice obviously hoarse. I rushed over to get him water, and as I handed him the glass, our fingers brushed for only the most minute of seconds, but it was still enough to send a shock wave up my spine. Malfoy showed no reaction to the touch, however, so I wrote it off as simple static electricity. After he had taken a could of sips, he found his voice again and continued. "Where's Weasley?"

With that my stomach dropped. His Veela was still longing for Ginny, which was possibly the worst case scenario. Because, not only is he now attached to me, a woman who is not his mate, but he also has to suffer the realization that she does not want him all over again, except, this time, he cannot die, and will forced to live with this heartache for the rest of his life. A terrible sense of guilt washed over me. Sure, I had saved his life, but in doing so, did I also condemn him to hell.

"I asked her to leave." I stated simply. I was surprised, however, that there was little reaction to this statement. If he really did still believe Ginny to be his mate, than he would have immediately tried to escape, to make his way to wherever she was, and mark her as his own. Trying to further explore the notion, I continued on. "Malfoy, what do you feel towards Ginny?"

He made a face. A snarling, rude, one hundred percent Draco Malfoy face, and in my eyes it couldn't have been more perfect. Because that meant the spell had worked, and that he no longer felt an attachment to Ginny. It was strange, but my heart couldn't help but soar at the realization.

"I suppose, nothing, really. I try not to think about any of the Weasleys. But…" Malfoy faltered, he sneer fading by a fraction of an inch. "I, I remember her. I think. It's all very fuzzy. But she was definitely there. And she was glowing." His eyes suddenly flashed up at me suspiciously. "Granger, have you given me some kind of drug? Tricked me into dreaming about Weasley. How did I get here? What have you done to me?"

His voice rose louder and louder, along with his panic. I was worried this would happen. His grogginess distracted him upon first waking, but now that he is up and thinking, it was only a matter of time before he started asking questions. I only wished I would have an easier time answering those questions.

"Malfoy, you were brought here by your mother three days ago, you won't remember because you were unconscious at the time. You're at St. Mungo's. We've been keeping you sedated using a muggle for of medicine, because the process went through would have put you through excruciating pain." I explained it all in a soft calm voice, trying not to delve into specifics just yet. For some reason the tone of my voice seemed to calm him, and the tension in his body dissipated quickly. However, the furrow in his brow remained.

"What transformation? Look at me, I obviously haven't transformed into anything." He held up his hand, as if to prove his statement to me.

"It's not that obvious, Malfoy." I sighed, not wanting to continue. In the days when he lay unconscious I had prepared myself for what I was going to say to him, how I was going to explain. It would have been so much easier if he hadn't found his mate, because then he could feel it, feel the tug towards his mate, and it would help him come around to the truth. Now, he only has a connection with me and some heightened senses, to validate a huge change in his life. It would be difficult for any person, especially one with a history like Draco Malfoy. He has been bred to believe that he is better than others due to his pureblood. Now I have to inform him that that blood is not so pure after all, actually, in hardly even human anymore.

"You see, you have certain genes that are rare in wizards. You accumulated it because, somewhere along your family line, someone mated with a Veela. This did not necessarily mean that all of your ancestors were Veelas, it just meant they contained the gene, and passed it down, just like you would pass down a gene for say, blue eyes. In almost all of your ancestors the genes laid dormant, but there was something in your genetic code that activated yours."

I paused for a moment, giving him time to ask any questions or pose any concerns. I was taught in my healer training that this gives the patient a sense of control over their condition. It's easier to feel as if you came upon a conclusion yourself than have someone dictate it to you. He sat there, still as a statue taking in all the words I had spoken. When he made no moves to contradict or question me, I continued.

"The process you went through is called Genetic Assimilation. Your Veela gene has been active your entire life, but it never became obvious until your transformation. It is traditional for most Veela to transform by their 20th birthday, but your transformation may have occurred later due to how diluted your Veela blood had become of the past few centuries. You did have some signs of being a Veela growing up, but unless you were looking, it would have been impossible to diagnose you as such."

"This…" He paused, finally finding his voice. "This transformation. What does it entail? I've seen Veela, but I feel no different, no more like them." I felt an unexpected pull in my heartstrings, and it took a large amount of willpower not to reach out and grab his hand. He was hurting. I could feel it in my very core. It was weird, feeling someone else's emotions, like you had super sensitivity. But it wouldn't help to get emotional now. That would come later.

"Well, you went through a completely normal transformation, with the exception of one complication." My voice trailed off during the last bit, yet I still saw his eyes widen in shock. I decided to continue on before he could question me. "While right now it doesn't seem like you have physically changed, you have. Your height has increased, along with body mass and metabolism. Veelas are very strong creatures, whose senses are much sharper than that of wizards. Your eyesight and hearing have both improved, as has your sense of taste and smell. The transformation is particularly painful due to all of this change that occurs in the body. Basically your body broke itself down, and rebuilt itself within the span of three days."

"But I don't feel as if my eyesight's better at all. I see perfectly, just the way I did before." His voice was now getting angry. The sense of both that had engulfed us now was disappearing, and my heart began to race in anticipation.

"That is due to the complication." I fiddled aimlessly with the bottom of my healer's coat, doing anything I could to look away from Malfoy's questioning eyes. "You see, this complication was very dire because it dealt with your mate."

At the word mate, Malfoy's entire body shot up, as if it had gone through an electric shock. He stared at me as if he was seeing me for the first time, and yet, their was still some suspicion behind his pale orbs. It was unsettling to be looked at in such a way. "It's you!" He proclaimed in almost disbelief. "You're my mate!"

"No! No, I'm not!" In normal circumstances I may have reacted with more tact. Veela's take rejection harshly, even if it's from someone who they were not mated to. But my proclamation didn't seem to faze Malfoy at all. If anything, it made him look more determined. His hand shot out, with superhuman speed, and grabbed mine, and again, I felt the shock wave run down my spine. This time I know Malfoy felt it to, because his hand involuntarily tightened around mine.

"Yes, you are. I couldn't figure it out at first, but now it's clear. I feel you inside of me. I know what you're feeling. When you speak, I believe your words to be true, no matter how outrageous they are. You are my mate." He spoke in a voice that was no longer surprised but determined, as if he needed to prove me wrong, to make me believe him with his words. I took a deep breath, trying to relax as I had earlier, and as I began to calm down, I felt his hand loosen around mine. I didn't pull away, however.

"No, Malfoy, I'm not." I said, in the sincerest voice I could manage. His face read like a picture book, as it fell back into confusion. I continued to speak lowly, trying not to cause alarm. "You see, your mate was here when you woke up. She's probably the reason you woke up actually. A Veela's pull towards their mate is powerful, that you were able to resist the medicine in order to claim her."

"It's Weasley isn't it?" His face was devoid of all emotion, and for the first time since he had woken up, I was having a hard time reading him.

"Yes, it was Ginny, who is no longer Weasley, but rather, a Potter." Silence reigned, as Draco no longer looked at me, but at the opposite wall. I didn't know what to do. Try to give him some sort of comfort by assuring him that everything was going to be all right? I couldn't do that, because I didn't know for certain that everything would be all right. There were so many questions hanging in the air that I was so worried about saying anything, because at that moment, I could have been wrong about everything.

"But…" he started again, no longer angry, instead returning to the suspicious tone that he had worn upon first waking. "That doesn't make sense. I mean, she's a Weasley, for God's sake. Their whole family ideology is opposed to my very existence. How could she be my soul mate?"

I went to interrupt him, to explain that Veela mating had nothing to do with soul mates, but rather with the female's magical core, and their ability to create offspring. Upon reflection, Ginny may have been the perfect mate for Malfoy. She comes from a strong pureblood line, similar to that of the Malfoy's without being interbred, and she has a family history of fertility. Ginny would have no problem conceiving a Veela offspring. Momentarily, I was struck with the thought of my own fertility. I hadn't been Malfoy's mate, which either meant I did not have a strong enough core, or that I wasn't a fertile match. If there was anything in the world I was confident about, it was my magical abilities, so that only left one real option. I hadn't thought much of kids, but here, being bombarded with the thought that I couldn't have them, almost sent me into a panic. But luckily for me, Malfoy was able to distract me by continuing his train of thought.

"And then there's you." His voice was growing in volume, and the suspiciousness now seemed to be turning into an accusation. "Even after you confirmed it, I feel nothing for the Weasley girl. She could present herself body and soul front of my now and I would feel nothing, But you. I feel you. That I know. You have somehow found a way inside of my brain, and for the life of me, I cannot figure out why. You're not my mate. As far as I can figure out, you're only my healer. And yet I feel you. Care to explain that?"

I felt the distinct desire to run. To get as far away from the situation as possible. I was probably breaking hospital protocol anyways. Because, after what happened, Malfoy could now be considered as one of my friends and family. It was immoral to be the healer on the case of someone you cared about, because your senses would be clouded, and you would make irrational decisions. I should really go get the chief of healing and have him explain it. It would be easier that way. But with him, staring at me so intensely, I found myself unable to move, and I found myself speaking despite my best sense.

"It all has to do with the complication..."

"For God's sake Granger! You keep speaking of this complication, but you have done anything yet to explain what really happened! What, are you trying to cover up one of your inept mistakes, and blaming it on my condition. I'll have you know that I have some of the best lawyers in the country who will sue your ass!" He was angry, full out so, and his anger only served to fuel mine. I couldn't sit there while he not only insulted my ability as a healer, but also my moral standing as one. My heart was racing rapidly, and I felt my emotions begin to grow out of control.

"She rejected you alright!" I shouted at him, entirely losing any sense of professionalism I had previously had. "Ginny is also a healer, and was assisting me on your case. The moment you came to, looking at her with your doughy love struck eyes, she rejected you, and sent you into a shock that almost killed you. I am the only reason you are not dead right now! So it would be nice if you stop acting like a pompous jerk, and maybe stop to, I don't know, thank the person who remembered the impossibly old, obscure spell that saved your life!"

We were both panting at that point, which was odd, because I had been the only one speaking. It was if we were having a battle with our eyes, neither willing to surrender. I hated him, hated his face, hated his stupid money, and his Veela ancestry, and I hated that I could feel similar thoughts running through his mind. He hated me as well, my blood, my hair, my friends, the whole package, he felt disdain for.

"Granger," his voice was low and gruff, and if I had been any less angry, probably would have scared me. "What the fuck did you do to me?"

"I saved your life." I spat. "And in doing so, probably ruined my own."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Ok guys, I know this chapter is very late. But I have two words for you: child care. Now I have two more words for you: strep throat. After agreeing to put in some hours in my local childcare during break, and caught strep from one of the little mouth breathers. Bad luck right? And to add insult to injury, I was diagnosed two days before I was set to attend the University of Kentucky vs. University of Louisville basketball game. (Anyone who cheers for a team in the SEC knows that's a pretty big deal) So, all in all, this chapter was pretty hard to get up. It's actually only a fraction of what I intended this chapter to be, but I figured I'd rather post something now, than nothing for another week or two. So I hope you like it! Thank you for all your feedback. It truly does motivate me to write more! And everyone have a happy New Years!

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><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

The man with the portly stomach had been talking to me for about half an hour now, and I wasn't sure how much more I could take. His voice was just so grating and pathetic, it was giving me a headache. Every moment I sat in this office, with the fat man babbling on about how sorry the hospital was for the state of his care and the serious consequences faced by all staff involved, along with the sallow faced chief of healing's intense gaze. I knew he was waiting for me to show a sign, any indication really, of my reaction towards the resent events that had occurred in his hospital, but he would be gravely disappointed. Malfoy's always knew how to have the upper hand, and the moment he reacted would be the moment he could be dominated. If I reacted with relief that my life had been saved, they would begin to sweep the issue under the rug, thankful they avoided any sort of nasty business. But if I reacted poorly, they would continue to offer him apologies, while already beginning to find ways to cover their asses legally. No, the longer I stayed aloof, the better. If it weren't for this damn headache.

Frankly, the chief of healing was the last person that I wanted to deal with right now. I would ring Granger's neck if I could. What was she thinking? Was she thinking at all? I mean, she's Hermione Granger for Merlin's sake! All I heard throughout my time at Hogwarts was how smart and talented she was, that Mudblood bitch who managed to steal all the awards that should have rightfully gone to him. That was years ago though. My jealously seemed obvious and childish to me now, but it didn't stop the frustration I was feeling towards the witch. How could the smartest witch of our age not have come up with something other than an ancient soul-bonding spell? She had to have had the entire Hogwarts library memorized, and yet all she could come up with was an old text about wizarding marriages. If it wasn't me in the situation I would have thought it was funny, Granger choosing the wrong answer to a question. If Severus was alive, he would surely get a chuckle out of it.

But I couldn't find it funny, and I couldn't be angry about it either, because I'm a Slytherin, and while one of our first instincts is to hate all self righteous Gryfindors, our most primal and essential motivation is survival. We're cunning and selfish to ensure that, at the end of whatever battle we are fighting, we are alive. While some, mainly Gryfindors, see our tactics as being below them morally, we see their real value. Survival, by any means necessary. And while Granger's spell had been extremely idiotic, it did lead to the continuance of my survival, as well as being completely true to Gryfindors' selfless nature. She risked the quality of her life to save my own, something I would have never done for another. So, I couldn't be mad, at least not publically.

So I could not yell at the fat lawyer or the rat faced healer. I could yell at Granger, but a fat load of good it would do to the situation. It would only serve as a consolation to my own feelings, the ones of loss and anger that stung deep within my chest. But that was a weakness I would not show, because it to would give Granger an advantage over me. At this point all I could do was sit and nod at the words that were being presented to me, and not try to screw up any semblance of control I have over the situation. I had lost enough of my freedom in the past few days, and I had a feeling that I would have a hard time surviving if I lost anymore.

"And of course, there will be a large compensation on behalf of St. Mungos." The lawyer received a sharp look from the healer at this remark and hastily continued. "Of course, those will come in a form of title. We could rename a wing after the Malfoy family. Anyone you want. It is a highly coveted honor in the wizarding world, one that comes with great recognition from those in higher society. It could bring a great amount of notoriety back to the Malfoy name." He received another sharp look. Apparently the healer did not believe insulting my family's position is society was the best way to deal with the situation. I was not moved by his words, however. Growing up as a Malfoy you learn that certain things will be expected of you, and that others will have opinions formed long before your introduction. It mattered very little to me though.

Rubbing my eyes, I felt my headache increase, and considered asking the healer if he had any remedies in his desk. But that would not do. It could look as if it were a resignation, accepting help from the enemies side. This whole thing was beginning to get exhausting, and I knew I would not last much longer. Instead of compromising, it would be much wiser to leave the situation.

"Really men." I announced, making the lawyer stop in his pacing. By refusing to pronounce them in their proper sense, by just men rather than by name or title, I created a sense of coldness in the tone. This lowered them in my presences. I was Mr. Malfoy, and they were nothing but unimportant men who are meant to serve my will. "The only thing I am willing to trifle with at the moment is what treatment Ms. Granger will receive. My lawyers are more than capable of handling the rest, and will be in contact later today, therefore the rest of these discussions can be handled with them.

The lawyer glanced at the healer for a moment of confirmation before he spoke. "We are in agreement that Healer Granger's behavior today was punishable and in violation of the code of healers, and her contract and healing license will be terminated immediately. She acted without the consultation of other, more experienced, healers, whom could have spared us from this, uhm, situation."

"But not my life."

"I beg your pardon?" It was the healer who spoke this time. For the first time since I had entered his office he looked at me with surprise. It was also the first time he looked at me like a person instead of a large amount of money.

"If I am not wrong, my condition was critical." I paused, waiting for the men to agree with me. When they did not, I continued in spite of this fact. "You should have the records to prove my heart rate during my decline. If indeed, it had been fading as quickly as I assume it was, by the time Granger had gone and gotten another healer, my heart would have stopped completely. And, forgive me if I'm wrong, but I'm afraid there's very little you can do for a dead man, especially one that does not respond to magical medicines."

Both men stared at in almost utter shock. If they had been expecting anything from me today, it was not this. I had originally planned on stopping their, but the looks on their faces were to good to turn down, and stopping would only serve to sever my good spirits.

"And seeing as Granger is a healer, one trained under this roof and who is touted as one of the brightest witches of the age, I'm sure she went through all the possibilities she was aware of before landing on the one she did, thus putting us in this situation and saving my life. And for that matter, if Granger could have fetched a more experienced healer, I beg the question, why was this healer not put on my case originally? As a Malfoy, and a frequent donor to this hospital, I would expect only the best treatment from St. Mungos, and I am disappointed to learn that I have gotten anything less. So, if anything men, I should be calling for your dismissal rather than Ms. Granger's. It is now obvious that while she was trying to simply save my life, you were sending me to a death sentence."

Silence reigned around the room. The lawyer's face was so red that he looked as if he was roasting from the inside. The healer however had a more scrunched look, one that might be worn by a poker player trying to call a bluff. He stood slowly, keeping his hands firmly placed on his desk all the while. I'm not sure if he needed the support, or was simply trying to control himself, but either way, he looked like a man who had just been slapped.

"Mr. Malfoy if you are insinuating…"

"I'm not insinuating anything. These are simply the fact that have been laid out before me." I to stood, trying to reach out to the full of my new height without swaying slightly. Some of my features were still new to me and would take some getting used to. Luckily, I was able to push past both my disorientation and throbbing head to appear intimidating before the small man. "Before my lawyer descend I shall make one thing clear. Granger shall keep her job. She will take a five week leave, which will be paid, to help her become accommodated to her current situation, before returning to work in the same position as she was filling before, no more, no less. This issue shall also be kept quiet from all who were not immediately involved. This means both press and hospital staff. Now if that is all, I believe I will be leaving." And with that I was gone. Men such as these did not deserve a formal goodbye.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N- **Ok, so it's been a while. I could tell you sob stories of strep throat, a killer cold, and an awful class that's not only aiming to teach me math, but also, how to teach it to children! (Oh, the life of an elementary edu. major) But, anyways, here is the chapter. I just want you guys to know that one of the reasons it might take longer is because I really want to be through with what I put out, and make sure that the chapter is quality content. And, you guys are awesome! I seriously love all the reviews, so keep them up!

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><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

I had always had a love hate relationship with my white healers coat. The schoolgirl Hermione Granger would have loved it. It was a symbol of power, of responsibility. When people saw you wearing a white coat, they knew that you were not only an intelligent human being, but also that you were someone who deserved respect, and who received it. As a young girl I would have paraded around in that coat, basking in the honor and the glory. Just as Percy had puffed his chest out when he first received his prefect pin, I would have walked with a certain stride. 'I'm better than you.' I would have thought, pompously.

But that was a schoolgirl attitude, and I had grown past that long ago. After the war, I stopped relishing in those symbols, and there had been plenty thrust upon me. Harry, Ron, and I all received an Order of Merlin, first class, along with several other ministry awards. They showered our faces over newspapers, buttons, flyers, almost anything imaginable. We were no longer on the run from dark wizards, but rather, people who wanted a bit of us, a bit of the celebrity we had stumbled upon. It was exhausting, and not at all what I wanted. As a muggleborn, I was always trying to prove myself, by getting the best grades, being the cleverest, trying the hardest, but I always felt like it was never enough. And then suddenly I was surrounded by proof that I had not just been enough, but that I had succeeded, and everyone recognized it.

And while those admirers meant to glorify our actions during the war, and applaud us, they only seemed to serve as a constant reminder of how we had failed. Why should we be praised for sacrificing our lives participating in dangerous activities, like riding a dragon out of Gringotts, while people like Tonks, Lupin, and Fred gave the ultimate sacrifice and get no recognition at all? It was an inadvertent slap to the face. And after a few months of politely signing autographs and taking pictures, I decided that it was enough. I refused to take glory from the event that ended some of the lives of those dearest to me.

I couldn't look at the coat any longer, or think about what I had done in the past, because, it was all over now. There was no chance I would be keeping my job. I knew that. While I had acted on the patient's interests, I broke about a dozen hospital rules, and possibly the law. The spell I had used was ancient, and for all I knew it had be outlawed by this time. I felt like I was back in school, being reprimanded by Professor McGonnagal for one of the wild stunts that Harry, Ron, and I pulled back then. But this time there would be no reassuring wink from Dumbledore, assuring me that everything would be alright in the end. No matter what we did, he always seemed to look beyond it and see our reasoning. I wouldn't get that lucky now. Because, school had ended a long time ago, and I didn't need a professor to tell me that I had made a huge mistake, something that could not be ignored or talked away. And now, I would have to face the much harsher consequences that come with living in the real world.

My only hope could be that the spell I had used was not as invasive as we were all assuming. After the chief of healing had been informed of what had happened, I had been separated from Malfoy, and they had run diagnostic exams on us both. I couldn't speak for Malfoy, but mine had come back perfectly normal, save for a slight heart arrhythmia, which could have been there before I had performed the spell. While it seemed silly, every precaution had to be taken when dealing with unfamiliar magic. I had only come across the spell once in my research, and I honestly knew very little of the magical theory or practical uses behind soul binding spells. If only I had been more through in my research during my school days. The Hogwarts library is an invaluable resource, one that I have been missing greatly since graduation. While healing paid well, I could hardly be expected to be able to pay for the amount of books it would take to continue my studies after school. Plus, with the addition of my work at the hospital, it would have been almost impossible. But I'm Hermione Granger, and if anyone could have pulled it off, it would have been me.

I could've sat there for hours trying to assign fault within myself, of blame a singular event that somehow impaired my judgment, but it would have been useless. This situation was my own, and I had to face it as it was. Maybe the effects of the spell would be minimal, and I could try to hold down a job after my inevitable firing. I had given enough business to Flourish and Blotts over the years that they would be obliged to hire me. It went without saying that any job in medicine or medical research would no longer be an option. St. Mungo's was always through when it came to covering themselves both legally and publically. They would make sure to release the story, before it was leaked by another source and spun out of their favor. They would paint me as a healer gone rouge, one who ignores all protocol and puts her patients lives at risk. Publically, it probably wouldn't have much of an impact, but professionally, my career would be over. I would be blacklisted from every respectable establishment, and everything I worked for would be tarnished.

Before I could stop it, a tear escaped me, rolling carelessly down my check until finally landing on my lab coat. And then more came, until my chest was heaving violently up and down, and my breath was coming out shallow. I was sobbing. It would do no use, crying like that, but I couldn't help but let myself have that moment to mourn. Fore, I had lost everything, and worse off, I had no one to blame for it but myself. I heard the door open, and turned my face, trying to hide the evidence of my momentary breakdown.

"So that's it." I wasn't surprised to hear Malfoy's voice. It was strange, but I could sense his presence in the room, almost as if he were emitting some kind of heat. I couldn't see him, but I could feel him burning in my check. " Stop it."

It took my a moment to register what he was saying, but when I did, I couldn't help but turn at him, now with anger, but surprise. I should have yelled at him for his condescension, but I couldn't seem to muster up the effort. The whole ordeal left me both physically and emotionally exhausted. It was easy to be angry at a Malfoy who's sneering at you, but it was almost impossible to be mad at a man who looked as worn down as he did. This side of my relationship with Malfoy was completely new. We were no longer enemies, had very little choice in the matter really, for we were stuck with each other, and it hardly seemed practical to live in a constant state of hatred. So, instead of responding in my usual clever tone, I simply asked, "Why?"

He was squirming uncomfortably, and I couldn't tell if it was my gaze that was bothering him, or something else completely. Still, it was a sight to be seen. "It…" He hesitated, not looking me directly in the eyes. "It makes me feel weird."

"Feeling emotion is weird for you Malfoy?" It slipped. It was like an old instinct had taken over, and I had responded in that mean sarcastic tone I had used so many times before. The feeling in the room shifted on a dime, and we were suddenly back to where we used to be, with Malfoy's cold eyes glaring down at me. I regretted the words instantly, and yet, I couldn't help but feel momentary relief. This was common ground. Here I didn't have to think about the fact that I had just changed our lives completely. He was still Malfoy and I was still Granger, and I knew where we stood. This was the Malfoy I recognized, not the one who couldn't look me in the face.

"It is none of your concern. Now get up, we're leaving." He stood there expectantly, still glaring down at me, and again, I found myself not being able to respond. Maybe it was my natural resistance to being ordered around, or maybe my brain was still foggy from crying, I couldn't be sure, but I truly hoped this wouldn't become a habit.

"I can't." I didn't feel like vocalizing why I could not leave. It was partially because I knew that I had to wait for my meeting with the chief of healing, in which I would be fired, but also because, if I left, I knew there was little chance of ever returning. And that was something I didn't want to have to bear. Malfoy's expression changed from icy to irritated, and I felt his desperate sense of exasperation begin to rise up inside my own brain.

"Granger, I'm done with this… whatever this is. Get up, we have to leave. There is business to be attended to, and it cannot be done in this hospital."

"I told you that I can't leave." I couldn't be sure if it was his impatiens or my own that I was feeling, but either way, I was beginning to get frustrated. He was looking at me as if I were a dog, one incapable of understanding basic commands. It was beyond insulting. "My boss will be expecting me…"

"That's been taken care of." He cut me off. In a flash he was standing in front of me. His hand wrapped around the top of my arm, and he lifted me with little to no effort. I tried to resist, but I was facing a Veela, and his strength greatly exceeded mine. And before I could open my mouth to protest anymore, we apparated away.

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><p>It was no surprise to me that the office was buzzing when I came in. At the ministry, they were always buzzing about something. It was mostly just interoffice gossip, though, which I made a strong point of keeping myself out of. I made my way hastily to my office, accepting a few 'Good morning Mr. Potter's' with the nod of my head, and tried to ignore the stares that always seemed directed towards me. They never used to bother me, seeing as I had received them my whole life, but after the war, they took on a whole new meaning. Because, now I wasn't just 'the boy who lived' but rather a celebrity, who's personal life was open for the world to speculate about. Those who stared weren't interested in my efforts in the war, but rather my mood, and what that might mean for my home life. If I ever came in foul, it meant Ginny and I were getting a divorce. If I was overly happy, I had obviously just been out doing something outrageous, like cheating on my wife. I sought solitude in my office mostly, where people were to scared to enter for trivial matters such as gossip.<p>

"Mate, we've got a problem." Ron spoke the words immediately upon me entering my office. I hastened to shut the door, as not to give the hungry onlookers any bits of information. I also made my way to the window and shut the blinds, ensuring complete privacy. While it may have looked strange in any other environment, these practices were common in the Auror department. Constant vigilance was constantly reinforced, and one could never be to safe concerning their privacy.

"What's happened?" I asked, sending up a silent prayer, just like I did every time I was forced to ask that question.

"Well, I'm not sure exactly, but Ginny came hysterically…" He was never given the opportunity to finish, before I quickly butted in.

"Is she alright? What happened? Why wasn't I informed?" All the questions came flooding out of my mouth before I could make any sense out of them, and I had a million more waiting. Nothing could happen to Ginny. She was… She couldn't be hurt. I couldn't let someone harm her. I knew in the back of my mind I was being slightly irrational, but I couldn't help it. Logic isn't possible when it comes to the love of your life.

"Clam down, mate, or else your bound pop an aneurysm, and then where would we be. Ginny is fine, just a little rattled." I let the breath I was holding cascade out of my mouth. Ginny was fine, and yet, there were still so many particulars that I still couldn't work out.

"What's the problem? Who rattled her?"

"That's where the problem lies." I could tell that Ron was holding back the urge to smile, which further served to relieve me. Ron was a lot of things, but he was not cold hearted. If something had been seriously wrong, he wouldn't laugh at someone else's expense. "It was Hermione." And with this, he laughed out, and I couldn't help but join him.

"What did Ginny do?" I chuckled, imagining what could have incurred the wrath of Hermione upon his wife. While the three of us may not have remained as close as we were in school, namely due to Ron and Hermione's failed relationship, we still knew her well enough to know how fiery her temper can get, and we had both been on the receiving end of one of her many rages. She had probably just been careless with her words, and had caught Hermione in a bad mood. Ginny and Hermione had never been close enough to be the recipient of one of these, but I suspected that the close knit bond they had come to form from working together, now made her a candidate. It was no surprise that she would be shaken up, A shouted lecture from Hermione was worse than a Howler.

"I'm not sure exactly, you know how Ginny gets when she cries, completely inconsolable, the little drama queen. But from what I could gather, Ginny botched something on a really important patient, and Hermione yelled at her and told her to leave."

"That was all you got out of her? She's usually an open book when she's upset." It was the truth, and another reason I worried so much about her. While she may be one of the toughest people I know, she would break down as soon as one of the people she loved was being directly threatened.

"I know, but she wouldn't tell me due to 'doctor patient confidentiality,' or some shit like that." He saw the worried expression come upon my face, and realized what conclusion I must have come to. If Ginny had messed up with a patient, so bad that Hermione had yelled at her, there was a possibility that she could be losing her job. It's not as if we needed the money, but I knew that she adored being a healer, and would be utterly devastated if she couldn't continue on in her work. Ron sensed this train of thought, and quickly continued. "I asked if she had been fired, and she said no. It was so strange, after a while she just kept repeating, 'They couldn't. It's unethical. I love Harry. I love Harry,' until she cried herself to sleep."

"Wow, I wonder what happened. Do you think Hermione could…."

"I'm way ahead of you there mate. That's where things get strange. After Ginny fell asleep, I floo'd to St. Mungos, but when I asked to speak to her, they refused claiming that she was dealing with 'administrative issues.' So, after an hour of waiting, I finally sweet talked a nurse into slipping that Hermione had already left, and that she would be on a five week leave for 'personal issues.' Has she mentioned anything to you recently? Any reason why she would take a leave." Ron was no longer wearing a smile, but was completely serious.

"No idea, did you try to floo her?" The worry in my chest was slowly starting to rise again, this time however, it was concerning Hermione.

"That's the other odd thing. It was blocked, requiring an emergency pass code. I've never had any problems with it before, so why would it be closed off now?" And with that, my heart skipped a beat. She was in trouble. I could feel it in my bones. While always cautious, Hermione floo had never been restricted from her close friends and family, meaning that if Ron could not get in, she had purposely placed a blockade, which meant she was worried about someone getting into her apartment.

"We've got to go over there. I'll get the clearance."

It took little to no time to get the clearance we were looking for, and get Hermonie's floo open to the ministry. No one was willing to argue with a glorified war hero, especially when it had to do with another one. We quickly made our way to the designated floo, and were soon standing in Hermione's kitchen, where her fireplace was set up.

Silence affronted me from all angles. Everything was pristine. Everything appeared normal. A few things leapt out at me. There was coffee brewed in the pot, but it looked like enough had been poured out for two glasses instead of one. There also appeared to be something in the oven, which was increasingly odd, considering Hermione lived off of take out, preferring not to cook after the weeks she spent making soup out of grass while on the run. The silence was broken with a hurried array of footsteps, before Hermione appeared, wand bared at the door. The knot in my chest quickly dispersed. She stood in front of my looking perfectly all right, terrified, but not harmed in the least bit. She jumped at the slight of them, but immediately dropped her wand.

"Harry! Ron! How did you get it here?" I almost chuckled. It was a typical Hermione question. Not a comment on why we are concerned, but rather a question about how we beat her system.

"We're aurors Hermione. We can do a hell of a lot a things." Ron replied, in a tone that perfectly mirrored that of his schoolboy self. At this point I couldn't help but crack a smile. Some things never did change. I quickly dropped the facial expression at Hermione's glower. She was approaching us quickly, her small hands trying to push us backwards, towards the fire place we had arrived in.

"Well now is not a good time. I will need you to be going now. Goodbye."

"Hermione!" I exclaimed, gently pushing back. Hermione's talk could be mightily intimidating, but physically, we was pretty weak, and had no possible chance of actually forcing us to do anything. "We were concerned about you. Ginny is hysterical, and we have no bloody clue what's going on. Will you just please talk to us?" With a final heaving shove, she gave up her assault, and tumbled backwards, hitting her elbow against the countertop.

An 'ow' had barely escaped her lips, before a man came barreling into the room, grabbing Hermione swiftly, and placing her behind him protectively. It all happened so quickly, that it took me a moment to make out his features. But within a few seconds I knew exactly who Hermione had been trying to hide.

"Malfoy?" Ron's exclamation fermented it. Standing before us was Draco Malfoy, and worse than that, he looked as if he were ready to attack.


	6. Chapter 6

Hi, I'm re-uploading this chapter in order to fix some mistakes, and generally make it easier to read. Thanks!

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><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

Granger's living room was terribly unimpressive, if only for the fact that it was dreadfully predictable. Almost all of the walls were covered in bookshelves, housing hundreds of think tomes, all incredibly dust free, probably thanks to Granger's obsessive nature. There was a small desk in the corner, with neatly piled stacks, which also appeared to be color coordinated. On the walls hung numerous pictures, mostly of her and the wonder twins, however, some were of an aging couple, who I assumed were her parents, and others of a small child who I didn't recognize. I would have been more impressed with the whole display if any of them had been moving. But of course, true to her muggle nature, all of the pictures remained stationary, making them increasingly boring to look at. It was as if nothing had changed. This may as well have been the living room of a teenaged Hermione Granger; for the only difference is that the faces in the pictures had aged.

As I gazed at the photos, a particular one caught my attention. It stood out from the rest, seeing as it was the only photograph that appeared to be formally taken. Ginny Weasley stood smiling in a flowing white gown, clutching onto the arm of Harry Potter, who looked as if he had just single handedly won the Quidditch World Cup. He was of little importance, however, because it was she who I was concerned about. I let my eyes scan over her face and down her body. She is attractive, I supposed. Her eyes had a certain glint to them that, even here in a picture where she was smiling, suggested deviance. I bet she was terrific in the sack, playing her nice girl act during the day, while having a complete tramp within. It was no doubt that my soul believed we belong together. But, even as I stood examining every bit of her appearance, I couldn't feel anything. Hermione's words still hit me as odd. How could I be so attached one moment, and then impartial the next?

I considered closely examining a picture of Granger in the same way, as a means to test my hypothesis, but decided against it. I was certain that I was not ready for what that exercise was bound to produce. Because, while the idea of being attached to Weasley now seemed like a foreign concept, being attached to Granger was a very immediate reality. It wasn't something that I had to be told anymore, but something I felt. Even now, as she was rumbling around in the kitchen, I could feel her nervousness swell in my own chest. I could feel the invisible strings that try to pull me to her when she is away, or even when she is close. It was strangely comforting, and all too dangerous to linger on at the moment.

My thoughts were interrupted by Granger, who had finally returned, balancing two cups of coffee in her hands. I moved back to the couch and took a seat, accepting my cup with a silent nod. She took a seat in the loveseat on the other side of the table, and for a moment, we both sat in silence, sipping our coffee. The silence was overwhelming, and in such an unfamiliar environment, I began to feel a sense of claustrophia. Coming into this apartment had already given her the upper hand of being in a familiar space, and now, sitting here feeling uncomfortable, I felt as if she was gaining more power with every second I let myself be vulnerable.

"Who's the kid?" My voice appeared calm, and nonchalant. I could sense that she was already nervous, and making her think that I am anything but was sure to put her further on edge.

"Ummm…" she stammered, glancing up at the portraits in question. The very subject had obviously thrown her for a loop, and the sudden position of power I suddenly felt myself in made me feel much more at ease. "Teddy Lupin, son of Remus and Nymphdora Lupin. They both died during the war, so now he lives with his grandmother Andromeda. Harry and I both try to spend as much time as possible with him, seeing as Dromeda is elderly and we both know how it feels to be orphaned." She paused momentarily, probably to contemplate what she had just said. The more time I spent time with Hermione Granger, her nervous habits had become evident, the primary of which was ranting. It was her way of using all the knowledge in that giant brain of hers to distract and disengage her opponent. It would have been clever if it had been intentional. When it became obvious that I was not going to respond to any of the information just presenting she continued. "He has a bedroom set up in my spare room here, which will have to be converted once you move in."

That had caught my attention. It was the most absurd statement I had ever heard, but it had passed so easily through her lips, that it almost seemed like an everyday conversational piece. I mustered up a sneer, and responded incredulously, "And why would I do that?"

It was now her turn to look at me with skepticism, mixed with a trace of irritation. For a moment I prided myself in producing such irritation, that schoolyard pride rising up within in. There was something about getting under Granger's skin that satisfied me like nothing else. Maybe it was the shaking of that holier than though attitude that gave me an acute sense of pleasure, or the fact that her face looked particularly unattractive when it was all scrunched up in irritation, but either way, it was a past time I wasn't going to give up anytime soon. I let myself bask in my victory until Granger's face fell from its state of disbelief into a small smile. After a roll of her eyes, she no longer looked at me with irritation, but rather condescension, like I was a child who had just asked a particularly ridiculous question. It struck me that this was probably how she looked at Potter and Weasley, God knew they could be idiots. That thought made my heart race, for some reason.

"Malfoy, what do you think would happen if I were to leave right now?" She asked, as if presenting a problem to a small child. Anger began boiling under my skin. Who did she think she was, speaking to a Malfoy in such a manner? My plan to gain the upper hand was completely lost, defeated by the slow and steady desire to strangle the woman who was sitting in front of me.

"I don't know, Granger, maybe I would finally be able to get a moment of peace without your incessant jabbering." My statement was meant to harm, and yet it only produce another roll of the eyes.

"The key statement there was 'I don't know.' There are a million things we don't know about this bond, and until we figure them out, it would be much more reasonable to stay in a close proximity."

"That's not what I meant." I spoke slowly and clearly, imitating the voice she had mocked me with. "I understand that there is now a… need for us to be in close quarters, however, why must I be subjected to life in your miniscule apartment when I have the option of staying at the manor?" I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. It was not because I felt sympathy for Granger, or spared any expense on her feelings, but rather, the moment I mentioned the manor a sharp pain erupted from my left arm, right above the spot where the dark mark used to lay. I looked over at Granger, who was also clutching her arm, but she did not appear to be in pain, but instead looked horrified.

"I won't." Her voice was soft yet determined. My arm continued to radiate pain, but it lessened significantly at her voice.

"Granger, what is going on?" I asked, genuinely. It took her a moment to register to what I was referring to, but the moment she saw where my hand was placed her face lit up in shock. The pain immediately dissipated. "What in the hell was that?" Her brain looked like it was moving a mile a minute, her face scrunched up in concentration. It might have found it endearing if it had not been for the intense pain I had just been in.

"Your statement about the Manor elicited an emotional response out of me, and it must have triggered something in you." She spoke, probably more to herself than to me. She paused, her face frozen in a worried expression. She spared me a concerned glance before continuing on. "I associate the manor with the war, and a certain event which transpired during it." Again, she paused, momentarily letting the meaning of her words wash over both of us. I wasn't stupid. That day rings just as vividly in my mind as I'm sure it does hers. "Just now when I reflected on that moment, you felt that pain that I was reliving. It's all very fascinating really. I wonder which side of you responded, your veela or the bond? Oh! I have to take notes!" Any hint of what had just transpired was now replaced by with her ever growing need to acquire more knowledge. She hopped up from her chair and practically ran into the kitchen, presumably to grab the notes she had already gathered on their case, and to add this interesting tidbit.

"Harry! Ron! How did you get in here?" Her scream emanated from the kitchen, and I was immediately on my feet, but I urged them not to move forward. This was not the time to start being irrational. I used what little control I had left, I held firm, not letting my senses make me go lagging after Granger like a lost puppy.

And then that same sense of control began to slip, being replaced with something else entirely. It was a small feeling that crept up slowly, but soon sent an entire wave of fire through my body, until I could not stand it anymore and was on my feet. But it was not my brain that made my feet move forward, but some instinctual urge that drove me to put one foot in front of the other and find the source of this anguish. The closest thing I could compare it to is being under the imperius curse, but still even that paled in comparison. This was need and want twisted together. And then I was in front of Granger, and I was growling.

* * *

><p>During a war, you learn to react first and think later. This has to do with a person's natural fight or flight instinct. It's that immediate jump to either run away from a situation, or face it head on. After encountering multiple confrontations, it just became natural for Harry, Ron, and I to fight. For some time, in the period when the war had escalated to its highest junction, flight was no longer an option. Even after the war, this instinct still lay firmly engrained in all of us, therefore it was not surprising that we all entered fields that involved intense on the spot decision making. We were bred for action. However, when Malfoy stood protectively over me, all thoughts of action were replaced by those of confusion. A sharp call of "Malfoy?!" escaped Ron's lips. They took in Malfoy's appearance, and instead of developing a defensive stance, took a step back in fear. Malfoy had unwittingly confused and conquered two of the strongest aurors at the ministry, leaving them almost completely vulnerable to an attack from an angry Veela.<p>

Before Malfoy could move any closer, I grabbed onto his arm, fiercely attempting to pull him back. It could almost be seen as comical. Within the course of a few moments I had gone from pushing my two best friends away to trying to pull a supposed enemy closer. My attempts weren't rebuffed, but they were hardly acknowledged, along with my cries for him to stop. He was much stronger than me, and quite angry, having lost all sense of logic and reason.

"You hurt her!" His voice was low, probably a few octaves lower than his usual speaking voice. It seemed to snap Harry out of her fearful trance, and he attempted to make a step forward, only to immediately retreat after Malfoy let out another feral growl. He took a step closer to the two men, all the while resisting my attempts to pull him away. If I could not get the situation under control quickly, thing would soon escalate to a dangerous level. Harry and Ron may have been aurors, but Malfoy was now much stronger than them, and had an urge to protect me that would supersede any hesitation to harm or even kill another being. So, I changed my tactics. Within a moment, my arms wrapped around Malfoy's middle, my hands resting lightly on his chest. I stood on my tiptoes, in order to reach his ears.

"Draco, listen to me, please. They did not hurt me. I tripped. I'm fine. Listen to me. Listen to my voice. No harm has come to me here. You have protected me. Calm down, and turn around and look at me."

It felt like an eternity, standing there, holding him, willing his heart beat to go down, and to return to the sneering controlled Malfoy that I knew. And then, slowly, I felt him began to shift, turning in my arms. The movement was startling, and I almost removed myself from him, but stopped myself before I could make that mistake. His body pressed into mine intimately, and while I could not classify it as unpleasant, it certainly did not help relieve my tension. His arms slipped around me, and began lightly working their way over my body, checking for any possible injuries. Harry and Ron would have no doubt been protesting, if not for their fear of reproach. Malfoy's eyes, now black, flitted around my face, and finally, both his hands and sight came to rest on my elbow.

"You see. I'm fine." His eyes shot back up to look at mine, and a breath caught in my throat. It was an odd reaction, and yet, so natural in our current state. His face was hard, but it seemed, the moment his eyes met mine, he softened. It was the way you would want to be looked at by a lover. It was a mix of utter admiration and affection, and a weight pooled at the bottom of my stomach. But I knew it wasn't real. Nothing about Draco in this state could be real. "Come on Malfoy, come back to me. Just calm down, and regain control."

His eyes turned slowly back to grey, and his body tensed almost immediately. And relief, along with a touch of disappointment, ran through me.

* * *

><p>They had been talking for half an hour, Harry and Malfoy, hauled up in Teddy's bedroom. It was ridiculous, and more than that, utterly frustrating. After Malfoy had calmed down, and I was able to explain our situation to the boys, something that I was hoping to do at a much later date, after we had more details figured out. The boys don't do well with loose ends, especially when in came to my life, and they often felt like they knew best. I was hoping to tell them after I already had a plan in motion, at a time when Malfoy and I were better equipped to deal with this. But there own foolish protective manner ruined that plan, and I was forced to explain, without much detail, how I had tethered myself, forever, to Malfoy.<p>

This proclamation was met with silence, and then, after a short period of question asking (where many of the questions were far to obvious) Harry had asked to speak with Malfoy alone. He had insisted Ron stay back with me to, 'keep an eye on me' which only proved to irritate me more. It was not Harry's job to be my protector, nor act as a father figure, threatening Malfoy with the cause of my protection. I sighed once more, stirring the tea restlessly. Ron shot me an irritated look, to which I only responded with a roll of my eyes.

"You know there's no need to pout. I wasn't invited to their little pow wow either." His said, his face scrunched up in irritation.

"Well, maybe if you had insisted against it more vehemently you would be joining them."

"The same thing can be said about you, now can't it."

"That's not fair. I protested, you on the other hand just whined and stomped your feet like a child, which is hardly expected to be efficient."

This time it was Ron's turn to sigh, as he leaned into his hands in frustration. It had always been like that between Ron and I, tug and pull. Before the war it had been a common occurrence, and in our time in the tent, it was almost constant. It was how we communicated between each other. Extremes were the only means by which we could understand each other, unfortunately, those often to form in the shape of extreme anger or sadness. It had worked for us for a while, but the instability soon became to much and I ended it. And after distancing myself for so long, our communication had been strained. While I still remained close with Harry and Ginny, Ron and I no longer had a connection strong enough that it could survive a screaming match, which left our only means of communication completely severed. We still bickered, but it never escalated to the point that it used to, and I'd found, that because of that, our friendship could probably never be fully recovered.

"What could they possibly be talking about? A through threatening could not possibly take that long, and Harry cannot possibly be that descriptive.

* * *

><p>It had been several hours since Potter and Weasley had left, and I found myself tossing in my bed. We had taken the time to Transfigure some of the things from the Lupin child's room into furniture, which fit my needs, while we would figure out another way to move my things in fully later. The memory of how my arm had throbbed still burned fresh in my mind, and I wasn't quick for an encore, and while it pained me to sleep in a room that had sailboats painted on the walls and still contained several bins full of toys, I couldn't bring myself to mention the manor again.<p>

I tried for hours to sleep, tossing and turning, switching positions in a veiled attempt of relief. But, as I lay in bed, it wasn't want for my own bed that kept me awake, but rather an all to familiar itching. It started out in my toes and slowly moved upwards until my whole body was pulsing. It was painful, as if my nerves had been stripped bare, and I had no means of relief. I fought against it, with every shred of pride I had left, until finally, it became to much, and I found myself on my feet.

Granger was lying motionless in her bed, but it was obvious by her breathing that she was not sleeping either. The itching only increased at the sight of her, but my feet remained planted firmly in the doorway. I am human. It was something I kept having to remind myself of. I couldn't let these urges control me. For every time I slipped, every time I let myself go for just a moment, I lost a shred of that humanity. So wrapped up in my thoughts, I unconsciously took a step forward, my foot treading lightly on the wood floor.

Granger's eyes flew open instantaneously, and her body physically tensed, causing the burning under my skin to increase, if it was possible, even more. As she sat up, she relaxed slightly with the knowledge that it was only me in her bedroom, yet my itching did not decrease.

"I know this isn't working." She stated clearly, no hint of sleep clouding her voice. That gave me slight comfort, knowing that, if I had to suffer, she did as well. "We've been apart for to long." It was clear what we both were thinking, but neither of us could find the nerve to say it, as if we were fighting a silent battle. Neither of our prides would be the first to admit weakness. Finally, she sighed, her signal for defeat. "Will you just…"

"I don't…" I found the words being choked from my lips. My voice was hoarse, as if the itching had somehow found a way to my vocal chords. My body yearned to stride forward, towards the request that she was willing asking. But I couldn't. I'm still human. I'm still human. "I don't want to."

"Malfoy, from this moment on, it's not going to be about what we want anymore, but what we need. And the reality is that we'll need each other, whether that's something you chose to accept right now. So honestly, at this current moment, I don't care what you want, all I want is to sleep. So please just get in the bed."

I didn't have to be told twice.


	7. Chapter 7

So, it's been a while, but I'm back with another chapter. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

After that first night together, our days seemed to run together. As Granger was eager to explore the limitations of our bond, we began by experimenting on how far apart we could be, without any physical repercussions. At first, this first proved to be relatively easy. We discovered that we could, in fact, be rather far from each other, however, there were several stipulations. It was Granger that was the problem. I could apparate wherever I pleased without any negative consequences, but when she would try to do the same; it sometimes caused me to encounter massive headaches. Granger believed it was something to do with me being a Veela, as she was not affected, thereby ruling out the connection as a possible cause. It was bloody irritating is what it was.

However, like the typical bookworm she is, Granger quickly found a way around it. In her research, she came across a case of a case where a connectivity spell had gone wrong between a mother and daughter, leaving them in a situation quite similar to ours. They found, through their own set of experiments, that they could be separated over long distances, under the precept the each knew where the other was at all time. Because of this, they had pocket watches commissioned, each having various locations, with the hand indicating where the other was. Granger mentioned that the Weasleys had a similar clock in their home, a fact which I tried to forget almost immediately. The less I knew about the Weasel Den, the better.

While it was a relief to know that we were in fact not as burdened down as we originally thought, the success of our first set of experiments came with a price. Working together had given us a common goal, a reason to be in each other's presence other than the pulling of our bodies. Because there was always a pull. Sitting next to Granger on the couch researching, or discussing possible spells that could help us, along with returning to her bed every night, was usually enough to fulfill the need. It was also enough to keep my mind busy and away from the more serious questions that I knew needed to be answered eventually.

It had been a week since we had returned to Granger's apartment, two days since we had discovered how we could move around separately, and three hours since my mother had sent me an owl demanding my presence. As much as I wished to ignore it, I knew it would be futile. If I did not come to her, she would send some house elf after me, and I would be forced to go against my own will.

So it was with a great reluctance that I strode through the Manor's grand foray, towards the sitting room where I knew mother would be taking her afternoon tea, and waiting for me.

"Draco darling, I'm so glad you've finally arrived. I was beginning to think that you would miss tea entirely, which would be a shame, as the house elves really did out do themselves this time." My mother stood with all the grace bred into by the House of Black, but Draco knew better. She wanted me to believe that I had some sort of choice in coming to this reunion, in order to give me a sense of control and boost my ego, but I knew better. We were both Slytherins after all.

"I wonder, mother, why you would assume that I wouldn't be hesitant to meet with the person who I just found out knowingly lied to me my entire life. Or, have the past ten days simply slipped your notice?" I spat sarcastically, taking a seat across from her, and with that, I let my mask slip off. While I was carefully guarded with Granger, knowing that any slip may give her some sort of advantage over me, I knew there was no need for such precaution with my mother. She would immediately see through any front I presented. And while my anger remained present, I couldn't deny the very real sense of relief that came with expressing myself freely.

"Of course I have not forgotten Draco. I planned on having you brought back here after you had woken up, so I could help you through the process of finding your mate, but with the," she paused "complication, that became impossible." I glared at her, opening my mouth to retort, to scold her for not telling me sooner, when she continued. "And Draco, don't be silly, I have not been lying to you. Yes, I knew there were Veela genes in our family, but they had not presented themselves for several generations. It was believed that they were all but bred out. With your father and I's coloring it was easy to miss out on the signs while you were growing up. It was only when your transformation began that I knew what was happening."

"You knew it was a possibility though." I shot in hotly. "Why didn't you warn me, prepare me for what might happen?"

At this, mother laughed.

"What, and inflated your already large ego?" She chortled, her smile only growing at my look of indignation. "Draco how do you think you would have reacted as a boy, or even as a teenager, if I had told you? You would have been blinded by the advantages, the promises of strength and power. Things that would have ultimately distracted you from your search for a mate." They sat there in silence for a moment, her with a victorious look on her face, and me stewing. I will never understand what it is about a mother that turn every grown man back into a child, and made me want to throw a tantrum in which I threaten to tell father. A lot of good that would do me in this situation.

"Well, we don't have to worry about that now." I finally sighed, relaxing back into my chair, finally dropping my defenses.

"Oh yes, of course, you must tell me all about this young lady." Mother said eagerly, leaning forward in her seat. It was now my turn to laugh in response.

"Mother, do not try to play it off as if you know nothing of the situation. I know you have been in contact with both the hospital and the lawyers. You know very well who I am connected to."

"Yes, I know it is the Granger girl, but that does not mean I know her, Draco. There is only so much that can be learned from clippings of the Daily Prophet. So, tell me about her. How are you getting along?"

I nervously ran my hand through my hair, knowing that this was not a topic I could talk mother out of.

"As well as can be expected." A moment of silence followed, in which I knew mother meant for me to continue. "I really do not know what you are expecting from me. She's Granger. She reads a lot, and can do research longer than any person I've ever met. We've been spending the week testing the limitations of our bond, my spilling our darkest secrets over wine and chocolate."

"Draco, you must make more of an effort. Especially if we're expected to get a wedding in by the spring."

It took me a moment to recover from the absurdity of her statement.

"I do not know what kind of delusions you have of either Granger or I, but we will not be getting married, especially not as soon as spring."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous Draco. You two will have to get married eventually, and the longer you are not, the more scandalized it becomes."

"Mother, I can tell you, with a certainty, that Granger and I are not getting married. Not even considering it." My voice was firm, which only seemed to further irritate her.

"Well, it is one thing to live together without a marriage, these are modern times, I'm sure it is not as looked down upon as it used to be. But surely you cannot really want to have a child out of wedlock."

"Who said anything about children?!"

This conversation had gotten out of my control to a point that made me uncomfortable. I stood up, not being able to stand sitting still any longer. Mother had lost her mind. Not only was she quick to marry me off to Granger, but she was already planning for our future children. Children were not something that I thought about before my transformation had occurred, and had definitely not been thought about since. At least, not by me. Apparently my mother had done a lot of contemplating on the subject.

"Please, I'm sorry to upset you, but see where I'm coming from dear." My mother started, in the same soothing voice that she used to lull me to sleep as a child. "I know Hermione isn't your mate in a traditional sense, but she has taken that role in your life, a permanent role. Yours is a bond that will never break. Therefore you must begin thinking about your future in terms where she is in it." She stood up and walked towards me, placing her hand gently against my arm. "Never forget your duties as a Malfoy. You are expected to uphold the family name, not just professionally, but personally. You are also expected to produce an heir. I accept the role Ms. Granger plays in your life, and I'm sure after some time and thought, your father will come to accept it as well. She could be a great political asset to our family. Just, think about it, ok?"

* * *

><p>I put down the book I was reading with a sigh, rubbing my eyes to try to relieve myself of the headache that was threatening to boil over into a full on migraine. I knew the source behind the constant throbbing, but even now, after a week of adjusting myself to the idea, hated admitting it. Malfoy had been away for two hours, having tea with his mother, and it was beginning to take its toll. Dutifully, I picked up my running notes on the subject, and noted the amount of time we'd been separated along with my symptoms.<p>

It wasn't just Malfoy's absence that was bothering me. In fact, having the flat to myself for a few hours had been nice. One never truly appreciates being alone until they are forced to not only share a space, but also the emotions of another. Even now, when Malfoy was off in some far off manor, I could feel him and know of his irritation. However, as the time went on, it became easier to either ignore or simply accept his emotions, and at times find them comforting. The same could not always be said for his physical presence.

But even now, in a Malfoy free area, I found myself growing frustrated as I read through the progress we were making. Yes, we had worked out the distance problem, which would make things easier once I got back to work, however, as evidenced by my growing headache, we had still yet to figure out a solution to our time limits. It, more than anything else, proved to be the most constraining aspect of the bond so far. Forget completing an entire workday, at this point I couldn't spend the day with my family or complete my shopping without toting Malfoy along. So far, all we had experienced were severe headaches and discomfort, but what would happen if the separation extended for longer? Would one or both of us completely break down?

It was the not knowing that bothered me. And the fact that, without a real method of experimentation, there was a real chance that I would not be able to know.

I didn't need to hear the pop from the kitchen to know that Malfoy was home. My headache alleviated slightly, but what would be required for real relief. It was the force that drove Malfoy into my bed every night.

He strode into the room, hair a little more disheveled than when he left, but all in all, still Malfoy. For the briefest moment, he simply stood and looked at me, before sighing and making his way over to the couch where I sat. Taking the seat next to mine, he reached for the documents in my hands, his arm brushing against mine in the process.

That was all it took. The drumming that had plagued my head for the last hour finally subsided, and by the way that his shoulders visibly relaxed, it was a fair bet to say that Malfoy was experiencing a similar fate. With my head finally clear, I was able to focus on the task at hand.

"Have you found anything new?" Malfoy asked, shortly, not bothering to look up from the notes I had made concerning my headache. At first I had been irritated at Malfoy's insistence to read the notes I was making, but relented after he proved himself to be intellectually capable. Plus, any added perspective he brought only helped further our progress, it simply seemed illogical to exclude him.

"Not since you've been gone. Apparently bonding spells aren't included in 'The Maladies of the 16th Century.'" I smiled, motioning towards the book that I had carefully set aside. It was meant as a joke, but he did not smile, but instead, continued to stare at me, as if my face had suddenly become puzzling to him. While I could feel that he was restless, and slightly irritated, I couldn't tell what he was thinking, and began to feel insecure. We remained silent for a moment, and just when I had decided to get up and remove myself from the situation, he spoke.

"I have some questions for you." He spoke carefully, as if he had chosen every word specifically. It suddenly struck me just how different he was from the boy I had gone to school with. Gone were the days where passion and anger would drive Draco Malfoy into impromptu outbursts or irrational decisions.

"Alright."

He paused for a moment, continuing to look at me strangely, and I fought the urge to squirm under his gaze. Years in the limelight had never quite managed to wear me down to direct scrutiny.

"You have told me that Weasley," he stopped to correct himself "Potter made a rash decision in her immediate refusal of me as her mate."

"Yes." I could not see where he was going with this. We hadn't spoken of Ginny, or really anything concerning his condition as a Veela, since our first full day in the flat. I had provided him with any information he required, plus what I had learned in my training concerning magical creatures. At the time, I had believed it was enough, but it was quickly becoming apparent that it wasn't.

"You said there were ways in which we could have gotten around it. A transfer of some sort. How exactly does that work?"

"Well," I began, relaxing a little bit as I let all the information I knew about Veela mating rituals wash over me. "Back when Veela were a relatively young species, they developed the need for mates as a survival tactic, a way to ensure that their bloodline would always carry on. Not much is known about the magic behind what drives a Veela towards their mate, but it is some of the strongest in the world. Once any Veela comes of age, their strongest desire, most basic of instincts is to find and reproduce with their mate as quickly as possible."

"Yes, Granger, I know all of this." He began irritated, letting his mask fall for only the briefest of moments. I wanted to smile, at his slip up, but decided against it, sighting that it may impede any progress he was making towards opening up.

"Of course you do. But there is more." I sighed, knowing that this concept was not an easy one to explain. "When the earliest of Veela sought out their mates, they found little resistance. Marriage at that time was not something entered into for love, but for political gains or familial obligations. Women jumped at the opportunity to become a Veela's mate, as it came with the advantages of both having someone who loved you, but was also superior enough to protect you. It was rare the a Veela was ever rejected, and there is little documented about the experiences.

This, however, changed as time went on, and the world began to modernize. Women gained their independence from the home, and Veela mating became more complicated, as rejection of the mate began to rise, dramatically lowering the Veela population. It wasn't until the mid 18th Century that it was discovered their was an alternative route to rejection, and subsequently, death of the Veela in question.

As the story goes, a man named Gregor was happily married, living in Central London, when he was chosen as the mate of a young Veela. Because Gregor came from a Wizarding family, he knew the legends concerning Veela and the fate of this girl if he were to reject him. Yet, he loved his wife and was honor bound to their marriage. Instead of rejecting her, he willed her affection onto another, of similar position an favor, but without a family. This freed the Veela from her attachment to him, and placed it onto this other man.

That is initially how was discovered the Veela aren't mating for soul partners, but rather, for the most ideal reproductive partner. After the incident became well known around the medical community, it has been put into practice, when there is an unwilling mate." I heaved a sigh, slightly out of breath from talking at such lengths.

"So, from what I have gathered from that history lesson you so kindly provided, is that all the Weasley twit had to do to prevent this was to will me to another?" He couldn't hide the anger in his voice, and I almost shrank back at the sound of it. He was livid, I could both feel it in my heart and see it in his expression. My first instinct was to jump forward and defend Ginny. She was my friend, whom had made an honest mistake. But, I knew better that to jump into such foolishness at the moment. Malfoy may not be that impulsive little boy anymore, but he was still a volatile man by any standards.

"There would have been more to it than that." I stated, trying to keep my voice as impartial as I could muster. "There would have been a waiting period needed to find her replacement, one where you would have to stay in close contact with her, without being able to actually have her. It would be painful, for both parties involved I expect, but especially for you."

"So then, she decided, in order to spare me a little pain and her the inconvenience, that she would just let me die? How very thoughtful of her."

I tried to hold myself off a little longer, but found my resistance slipping.

"That's not what she meant at all." I snapped back, not caring what consequences it would have. Ginny was my friend, no matter the angry words I had yelled at her at the hospital or the gravity that her mistake weighed on my life, I would defend her. "She's an intern, and she was scared. She has Harry to think about."

"Well, I'm glad that at least Saint Potter was on her mind as she sent me to my death bed."

"Whether Ginny did or did not make a sound decision has no bearing to your life anymore. You are here, you are living, and you have no right to make a martyr of yourself at my friend's expense!"

Both of our voices were raised now, and I could feel my heart beating fast, with the combined effort of both of our fury. It was a cycle we couldn't escape. I could feel his anger beating through me, only fueling my own. I couldn't think straight. I couldn't see that Malfoy, for the first time since leaving the hospital, had completely let his guard down around me. All I could see was blood.

"No bearing on my life?!" He shouted, standing up, making as if to walk away. But I wouldn't let him, couldn't let him get the last word. I stood and followed, until we were standing facing each other, him towering over me. "You know what I just got back from Granger? Tea with my mother, in which she described, in much detail might I add, our wedding along with our future children."

I blanched, taking a small step backward as if I had been struck. That had not been what I was expecting. Once again, the small panic that I would not be able to provide children flitted through my mind, but was pushed aside for more pressing issues. Holed up here in my flat, it was easy to think of the whole situation as abstract. The bond was something they had, something they could research, something they could hide. But it obviously couldn't stay that way forever. Because, that's what they had with each other, forever. I felt my breath hitch in my chest, I felt momentarily breathless. Panic was setting in.

"Granger" Malfoy was in front of me again, except this time he did not appear angry, only mildly uncomfortable. "You need to calm down."

"Why?!" I found myself shouting, without even thinking of what I was saying. "Why must I calm down, when this is obviously something we can't be calm about Malfoy. This is our lives we're talking about. How can you expect me to calmly think about marriage or children, when we can hardly make it through a civil conversation? When you are opposed to my friends? When we can't even acknowledge some of our baser needs out of shame or fear of showing weakness? What kind of life is that to lead?"

As soon as the words left my mouth, I wished I could've taken them back. But it was an undeniable truth, one that I wished to spare us from for some time, while we were adjusting to our situation. Our lives were different now, and impartially researching together was no longer an option. This adjustment period would be useless if we couldn't truly learn to live with the reality of what had happened.

Malfoy stood in front of me, standing quite still, with a look of discomfort still lingering over his features. He reached his hand out towards me, but stopped midway, probably realizing what he was doing. He shut his eyes, and began to speak.

"You need to calm down, because it becomes harder to fight the urges when you are panicked." He said each word slowly, and with much apparent difficulty. And that was all it took to confirm it in my mind. Yes, I had hoped to delay it for a while, but that clearly wasn't working. We were going to have to change.

"Malfoy… Draco." With the uttering of his name, his eyes snapped open, and I suddenly found his blue eyes penetrating my brown ones. "This is no way to live. Fighting off your every comfort to save your pride. I meant what I said about having to live for our needs rather than our desires. I know it will take work, but," I broke off, not sure exactly where to go with my thoughts. "But, I think we owe it to ourselves to try." I paused for a moment, waiting for his reply, which never came. "Alright then, I'm going to take a shower and get ready for bed. I suggest you do the same."

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><p>And with that she walked away, leaving me frozen where I stood. This was not how I was hoping this conversation would go. I came in with the purpose of trapping her, having her admit some sort of fault in their situation with which I could use against her later, yet, it had all been turned around on me. She had made me seem like the unrealistic one for fighting this, the thing that neither of us chose. It was as if she was giving up, accepting that there would never be a way out.<p>

But I was not so easily swayed. If her foray into Veela history had taught me anything, it was that nothing is certain. An entire population spent centuries believing a certain nature about themselves, only to be proved wrong by a single man. We had not discovered a way out of our situation yet, but then again, we had not really been looking. We'd been to focused on living with it. I would not accept that. I refused. And if that meant calling in an expert, despite my reluctance, I would take that chance.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys, here's another chapter. Hope you enjoy! Thanks!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Eight<strong>

It was twenty minutes after Granger left when Blaise arrived in the flat. It had been a task getting her out, for, since leaving the hospital, neither had made it a habit to leave for an extended amount of time. There had been a few exceptions, but overall, they had remained within their self-constructed isolation. However, when Potter's owl arrived, requesting Granger's presence for lunch, I jumped at the opportunity. Given that she gave me the exact location of the restaurant they were eating, and apparated into and out of the site, she could easily spend a few hours with her friend. Whether she found my encouragement suspicious or not, I couldn't care less, because she had accepted it nonetheless, and would be out for an hour and a half, which was all the time I required.

Since our argument three days ago, I had put on the appearance of polite civility in order to keep the peace. I did not do anything to purposefully cause problems, yet I did not overly enthuse myself in her presence. I simply employed the manners that were taught to me as a boy, making small talk at meals, nodding as if I was interested in whatever Granger was babbling on about, and not arguing whenever she became particularly grating. It was an almost exhausting endeavor, but I knew it was a small price to pay for temporary peace.

"You're late." I demanded, rising from the place on the couch to meet Blaise by the fire, where he had just emerged.

"Well, I'm sorry if I can't bend my schedule at your will Draco. I do have a job you know." He retorted angrily, brushing the dust from his robes.

"I have a job as well." I responded almost automatically, not liking Blaise's insinuation that his time was worth more than mine. I was a Malfoy, and was able to command the time of anyone I chose.

"Yes, it looks like you've been working very hard here." His tone dripped with sarcasm, and I had to stop myself from spitting back at him. We only had a limited amount of time, and we were already further off topic than I wanted to be.

"I didn't ask you here so we can compare who's broomstick is bigger, if you'd like to have a seat, we can get down to business." I motioned for Blaise to have a seat in one of the chairs surrounding the coffee table, feeling a twinge of shame. I was used to doing my business across a regal desk, in an office built to intimidate. There was little doubt of how intimidated Blaise could be, sitting in Hermione Granger's minuscule living room.

"Right." He sat down, opening the folder in his hands so that the papers spread across the coffee table. "Granger's baseline research was good. It gave me what I needed to really dive into the matter. It was… lacking in some areas, but I was able to compensate."

"I don't think Hermione Granger's work has ever lacked for anything." It came out sarcastically, but only due to a concerted effort on my behalf. No matter how much I disliked the feeling, it irked me to have someone criticize Granger, even if it was in such a minute way. Whether it was because of the connection, or because Granger's image now reflected upon my own, I didn't know.

"Well, Granger is a healer. She thinks medically and logically. But this spell wasn't created for medical uses, but rather, for passionate ones. Not that I expect Granger to understand those."

I felt another twinge in my chest but chose to ignore it. I contacted Blaise knowing that it would be difficult, for, no matter how accepting the other wizard may appear, I knew where his alliances lay. But, Blaise was the best curse breaker he knew. During their time at Hogwarts Blaise had read more books on old spells and incantations than anyone, with the exception of Granger of course. Plus, there was the benefit of his silence. While Blaise was not to be entirely trusted, I had enough information about him to ensure his secrecy as long as I required it.

"What does that mean exactly?" I offered, as he did not continue.

"Well, from my findings, in its earliest forms, it was a curse, cast usually by some loony seeking a connection with the one they desired. Because of its permanent nature, said person would be forced to be with them for the entirety of their lives."

"That doesn't sound to promising."

"There's more." He snipped, reminding me suddenly of Granger when she gets going on some intellectual tangent. Apparently, impatience was a trait shared by all scholarly people. "The curse was then modified as a form of marriage bond, which is apparently where Granger picked it up. It was usually used to prevent one side of the wedding party from backing out of the union. The bond experienced by the two people remained the same, but the spell itself was a little less permanent."

"Great news then."

"Not quite." My heart fell as fast as it had risen, but I kept my face as impartial as a I could make it, not willing to let Blaise see any semblance of disappointment. "It's only the person who cast the spell that is able to remove it. You can't do anything without Granger."

That wasn't so bad. I was sure that Granger wanted out of this just as badly as I did, but was to enthralled with her experimentation to notice that it was a very real opportunity. "That can be arranged. Do you have to material required for Granger to learn the counter curse?" I questioned, keeping my voice even and low. Blaise gave a pained expression.

"Draco, you have to understand that your case is complicated. These other couples, who have had the bond removed, were simple wizards, something that you are not anymore. I'm not sure it's going to be as easy as just reciting a counter curse."

"Granger explained it to me yesterday." I said, feeling panic once again rise up in my chest. "There is a way to transfer my bond from one mate to another. It's been common practice amoung healers since the 18th century. The only thing blocking that at the moment is my connection to Granger." Blaise looked down at his hands, obviously thinking deeply about something. I was slightly taken aback at his solemnity. He had found the solution, much quicker than I had ever anticipated, yet he remains hesitant.

"I'm not healer, mate, but I know enough, and I've read through Granger's notes, as well as some material concerning Veela mating rituals. From my understanding, Potter's wife was your intended mate."

"Yes." I agreed slowly.

"And after she rejected you, your body began to shut down, only to be saved by the bit of Granger's soul that she extracted into it." It was odd, hearing the events put in that manner. The thought of having a physical piece of Granger's soul within my body was not a welcomed one, even if I could feel the reality of it at all times. "This did save your life, and redirect your… affections towards her, but it did not replace the place of a mate. Your genes are not actively yearning for hers. But your body has been sated by the presence of her soul within your body."

"That makes absolutely no ruddy sense." I snorted, not caring how Blaise saw me at the moment. What he was saying was a lot to wrap my brain around.

"It does if you know how about Veela. The actual mating ritual is very similar to the process you and Granger went through after she cast the spell. The Veela and their mate exchange bits of each others souls, which is why under the law, they are viewed as technically married. The Veela side of you feels satisfied, because your soul has already been exchanged with another, however, without technically going through the process, Granger cannot be considered your mate."

"But I could find another mate." The words fell lamely from my mouth, and even as I said them, I knew they wouldn't be true.

"The only way to do that would be for Granger to remove the spell, which would most likely leave you in the same condition you were before she cast it."

"So what is it exactly that you're telling me?" A moment of silence passed between the two of us, as Blaise looked at me, with a hardened expression in his eye.

"My recommendation, both professionally and as your friend, would be to accept this and move on. Granger is a part of your life now, and trying to reject her as such could be fatal." Blaise stood up, and I felt myself automatically following his actions. I heard him mutter that he must be going, and that I should take care of myself, before hastily making his way out via the floo.

What Blaise had said was no different than anything my mother had told me, or what Granger had said, for that matter, but I felt as if it had shifted everything just slightly, and I was no longer on solid footing. No longer was it a possibility that I would be spending the rest of my life with Granger, it was a reality.

The thought of Granger made my blood temporarily boil. This was her fault, all of it was her doing, how could she have been… And then it struck me suddenly. I had been such a fool.

Granger was a healer, and not just a healer, but the smartest witch of her age. Was I really ignorant enough to think that she would not have researched everything about the spell that sealed her fate? If Blaise could find out enough information to make a recommendation in three days, did I really believe that Granger had not come to the same conclusions after ten days? She was not simply focused on controlling the parameters of our daily lives for the experimental purposes, but because she knew it was all we could do. She had known, yet she had not told me. Her words kept speaking of acceptance of cooperation, but she had not explained fully why such measures were vital.

And then the stone dropped in my stomach. If she had figured it out, if she had known their exact prognosis, then she knew she could reverse it. If there ever came a time where she had to choose her life over his, she was free to do so, she was free to let him die.

But she would never truly let that happen, it went against everything in her nature. And yet, the memory of her mild breakdown surfaced on my brain. The thought of being married to him, bearing his children, had sent her on a tailspin. If she had known this was their fate, had she not been expecting those things? Or had she known, even then, that one day her need for a life, her own life, would trump my own?

The walls of the already small room seemed to be closing in around me, and each breath I took seemed difficult. My skin was on fire, and I felt myself slowly but surely losing my grip on my humanity.

And then she was there, in front of me, her hands on my face.

"Draco, what's wrong? What's happened? I'm fine, look I'm fine." She let her hands drift down towards my arms, as if willing them to check her, to assure me that she was indeed safe. I tried to open my mouth to speak, but could only admit a low moan.

"No Draco, look at me. Everything is fine. You're fine. I'm here. Just calm down. Come back. Just calm down and come back." And slowly, it became easier to speak, easier to move, easier to feel human again. But I was not calm. I didn't believe I could truly be calm again. Not with her proverbial noose constantly hanging around my neck.

"You cannot leave me." I stated softly, my voice and octave lower than I knew my regular speaking voice to be.

"What?" She said softly, making to take a step back, but I was quicker. I grabber both her forearms firmly in my grip, and pulled her toward me, until her face was inches from my own.

"You cannot leave me." I said again, except this time my voice had raised in volume. I could see the beginnings of fear clouding her eyes, the pull of her response in my heart, but I couldn't stop. She had to know. It had to be clear. I felt new sensations running through my veins, and I knew, in that moment, that I was not entirely myself. I could move, I could speak, but my words were those dictated by what I had become, the Veela inside of me. "Not now. Not ever. Do you understand?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy. I just went out to lunch. I wasn't leavi…"

"You can't leave me to die like the Weasley bint did! You can't walk away from this when it gets hard. If it ever comes down to it, you cannot choose your friends or your parents. I must always be me!"

"Malfoy, I…"

"What do you want?!" I screamed, never letting go of her arms. She was shaking now, whether out of fear or anger I wasn't sure, but I had to continue. I'm not sure I could have stopped if I had wanted to. "What do you want?! Money? You can have all of mine. Whatever you want, I can provide it, Granger. Children? We can have as many as you'd like, whenever you want them. We can start trying right now, if you'd like." She stood still, her eyes wide and gazing up towards mine. She was so small compared to me, so weak, so feminine.

"Is it love?" My voice was softer now, as I looked down at her. The freckles on her face were not stained with tear tracks. I hadn't even realized she begun to cry. "Is what you need, for me to love you? Because, I can do that. I can love you."

My face was so close to hers, if I moved a fraction of an inch, our noses could have touched. Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, a small part of me screamed to stop, to end this madness. These were words that she would never forget, ones that she would hold onto until the opportune moment arrived where she could use them to her advantage. But what would that matter now though? When she had the ultimate tool at her disposal. Any movement, and choice I made now would only be an effort to sway her from using it.

Finally Granger seemed to have found herself. Her eyes narrowed as they looked up at mine.

"What I want," she started, trying to keep her voice level, though I felt her irritation as clearly as I felt my own desperation. "Is for you to calm down, and please step away from me." My eyes flashed, and she must have sensed her misstep. "I'm not rejecting you, and I am not leaving. I do not have, nor do I believe I will ever have, any intentions to leave. But right now you are not yourself, saying things that you do not mean, and I will not stand by while you try to manipulate my emotions to ensure your own survival." My hands released her arms, and she immediately stepped back, wiping her face clear of any remnants of tears and straightening her clothing.

The spell was broken, and any control my Veela had over me had receded. Granger must have sensed this as well, because she let herself look up at me again before visibly relaxing.

"Well, that's it then." She said in a tone that suggested it was final. "We obviously have some things to talk about, but there's no use risking your temper again today, so we'll just worry about that later. I'm going to send an howl to Ginny explaining why I had to leave so suddenly." And with a nod of her head, she fled the room.

For the second time in a week, I stood contemplating following the departure of one Hermione Granger. While thoughts of humiliation at the way I had acted threatened to overpower me, I had more important business to attend to. There would be plenty of time for embarrassment and self-loathing later. For now I had to focus on what had just presented itself.

Granger has believed this entire time that she has had the upper hand. She was the one who cast the spell. She alone knew it's true ramifications. But that wasn't true anymore. We were now on equal footing, but even more than that, she had revealed something invaluable.

Being able to sense Granger had its advantages. Because of this fact I knew that she had been worried, when she found me in my state of panic, and scared, when I turned my attention towards her. But she had not been angry until I began to talk about love. She herself had admitted that such words could manipulate her emotions. I couldn't help but let a small smirk grace my features as I thought of the obvious vulnerability that she had just presented.

She had stated that she would never leave, but words alone would never be enough. There would have to be something more, something to prevent her from ever leaving. Yes, I would manipulate her emotions, only this time more subtly, more slowly, and more purposefully. I would use what I had at my disposable to sliver my way into her heart, digging deep and personal roots as I went. I knew her love would come easily. No matter our distance from Hogwarts she still remain the epitome of her house. She was just another reckless Gryffindor willing to throw themselves into the deep end before they had really considered the consequences. And I was a Slytherin, ready to take advantage of the fall.

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><p>Even after all these years living in the Wizarding World, to me, there was still something very special about Diagon Alley. Every time I visit the street I can't help but be filled with a small sense of wonder, as if I'm still seeing it through my eleven year old eyes. That place of impossible wonders, where I felt for the first time that I belonged. Here no one would look twice at a small girl who could make funny things happen, no one would laugh or cower in fear. Everything here is funny, strange, and inexplicably wonderful.<p>

As I sat waiting for Harry, in the restaurant Malfoy and I had agreed on, I couldn't help but watch the coming and goings of all the people on the street. Smiles littered the faces of children as they pulled on their parents sleeves, trying to persuade them to make a quick interlude to the ice cream shop. A man blushed profusely as he ran into a witch, causing her to drop her tremendous amount of shopping bags. The witch blushed in turn, and I couldn't help but wonder what kind of a moment they had just created. Would it be one that they remembered forever, that they told their grandchildren, smiling while they recounted their fateful collision? Or would it just be another fleeting moment in their already crowded lives, one that they may resist later, during a quiet moment, but would mostly be forgotten?

None of these people knew just how lucky they were. Their lives could be filled with hundreds of ordinary moments like this, moments that have always been just slightly out of my reach. Growing up, I'm sure I had some moments of mundane wonder, but even then, I think they were always clouded by the knowledge that something was off, different, in my life. And once I got to Hogwarts, and became friends with Harry and Ron, and semblance or hope of normality was thrown out the window. I had hoped after the war, and then again after my hectic healer training, that my life would be able to finally settle, but once again I was proved wrong. Unlike those people on the street, it was doubtful that I would ever get those quite moments of peace. It just wasn't in the cards for me.

"I'm sorry I'm late…" My thoughts were snatched from me by the appearance of a red headed witch, nervously sliding into the chair across from me. "I was just nervous about coming."

And she indeed did look nervous. It was odd to see Ginny, who was usually more laid back in her attitudes, visibly flustered. The bottom of her shirt was slightly wrinkled, and I can imagine her gripping it, while trying to work up her nerve.

"There's no need to be nervous Gin, I just wasn't expecting you." I smile, trying to alleviate her distress. "Is Harry coming as well, or was that just a cover?"

"No, I asked him to send the invitation. I…" she broke off, turning to look out the window. I knew she to probably longed for the existence of the ignorant passerby, who may have never seen war, or doomed a man to death. "I wasn't sure you would come if I invited you myself."

I didn't know how to reply to this, so stayed constant with my silence. Normally I would be quick to correct her, to tell her that of course I would have accepted a lunch invitation if she had extended one. But things were not normal. I had Malfoy to consider now, and if it was any indication from our fight the other day, his feelings had not softened where the young witch was concerned.

"I just… I had to see you. I couldn't leave things off the way that they were."

"Ginny," I sighed, hoping that this conversation wasn't leading where I thought it was. "As sorry I am that it happened, I can't apologize for the way I spoke to you. It was work, you were my intern, and if it were anyone else, they would have received the same treatment."

"I'm not asking you to!" She quickly cut in, nervously running her hand through her hair, a habit I suspect she picked up from her husband. "In fact, I'm here to apologize. It was stupid. I was stupid. I wish I could just go and take it back." Her eyes turned again out towards the street, pensively.

"You're an intern. Interns make mistakes. It's how you learn. Anyone could've made it."

"But it wasn't anyone, it was me. And it was you." She turned back towards me, and I saw that her eyes were filled with tears. I felt a small pull in my heart. Ginny was my friend, had been for more than a decade. At this point she might as well be family. She didn't deserve to hurt this way, simply because I was hurting. No one should have to bear that burden. "I was so happy to be working with you, not just because you're my friend, but because I respected you. Coming from your background, and facing the life you have, you've accomplished so much, and I ruined it all with one selfish moment." Tears were now streaming down her face, and I couldn't hold myself back. Bully what Malfoy thought. I reached out and grasped her hands into mine.

"Ginny, I don't blame you. I never blamed you. You have to believe that."

A small smile crept across her face, and she let out a small laugh.

"Harry said that you would say that."

And I smiled in return.

"Well, he knows me well." There was a small pause. It seemed the seriousness of the moment had passed, which was fortunate for me. With all that had happened in the past couple weeks, and the constant tension of living with Malfoy, I needed a definite break from seriousness. "So, tell me everything that's been happening at the hospital. I've been dying for some news, but apparently when you're on leave, they expect you to, you know, leave hospital business alone." This solicited another laugh from the redhead, and it looked as if she had finally relaxed.

"Not much really. I wasn't there the first week… after." She must have picked up on my confusion, and continued on. "Apparently, because no one died, I couldn't be fired for 'the incident' so I was put on a week of unpaid leave instead. I didn't really mind, I think I needed some time to recoup anyways, but I while I was gone a witch came in after having gotten her roommates arm stuck into her side. Probably a switching spell gone wrong or something. Well, they…"

Ginny kept on talking, but I could no longer focus. A slow fire was building its way up into my heart, along with a panic in my chest. What was happening? Everything with Ginny had gone fine, why would I be panicking? Another wave came on, this time stronger than the last, and I almost groaned in pain. What on Earth?

And then it hit me. I stood suddenly, hurriedly excusing myself, before apparating straight from the table. It wasn't thought or emotion that drove me forward. It was instinct bringing me home, and back to Malfoy.


End file.
